


Stand and Deliver

by Mazarin221b



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Ram, Consent is Sexy, First Time, M/M, Miscommunication, Novel correction, Top King, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: Ram thought he knew, the moment he and King kissed, what would come next. Sweet words, more dinner dates, cuddling and kissing over tutoring sessions in King’s condo. He knows he wants more, too - he wants to touch, to make King’s eyes droop with pleasure, wants to see him naked and proud, and all for Ram. Wants his teeth pressed against that golden, smooth collarbone as he falls apart, shuddering.So It hits him with the strength of a storm, of a monsoon that rages with buffeting wind and driving, relentless rain, the nature and the shape of his desire.
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 132





	Stand and Deliver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days_of_storm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/gifts).



> I was pissed off at Chapter 30 of Space, the Ram/King novel, the first half of which parts of My Engineer is based on. I'll pop a link to Maria and my translated summary at the end, but basically, this is my response to it: Yes, you can make consent sexy, and you can make passion believable in that context. You don't need noncon, and you don't need to make another character a rapist to show possession, either. Grumble. So I did what any fic writer would do, and fixed it. 
> 
> For Days_of_Storm, my darling Maria, for being such a supportive and wonderful friend. Also for unapologetically and enthusiastically sharing in the thirst chats and taking MG on as a ship in law, lol. Thanks, friend. You've been one of the best parts of this year.

Ram thought he knew, the moment he and King kissed, what would come next. Sweet words, more dinner dates, cuddling and kissing over tutoring sessions in King’s condo. He knows he wants more, too - he wants to touch, to make King’s eyes droop with pleasure, wants to see him naked and proud, and all for Ram. Wants his teeth pressed against that golden, smooth collarbone as he falls apart, shuddering. 

So It hits him with the strength of a storm, of a monsoon that rages with buffeting wind and driving, relentless rain, the nature and the shape of his desire. He’d stepped out of the bathroom in only a pair of shorts to be confronted with King rummaging through a drawer. King had straightened, his eyes flickering with hunger over Ram’s body, before he deliberately focused only on Ram’s face.

Ram’s breath locks in his chest. He looks into King’s wide eyes and knows, without doubt. He wants to be kissed until his lips are bruised, wants King’s soft grunts and pants in his ear, to be ravaged until his spread thighs quake from the strain. 

He wants to be _wanted_. 

……………………………………………………………………………

The problem is, he doesn’t exactly know what _King_ wants. They feel like they're on the precipice of something, sweaty couch makeout sessions and mutual groping sparking electricity that leaves Ram ready to throw himself into the abyss, to abandon himself to the want that grows and gnaws at him. He would, if King would, but every time Ram is about to slide his shirt off, something in King's touch changes. He slows - grasping hands become delicate, desperation becomes a quiet sigh. His forehead will rest against Ram's. Then he'll smile and pull away to find something else to focus on. 

Ram finds himself hating what King focuses on. He once loathed a ficus tree for half an hour.

It's not even that King isn't affectionate. He sneaks up behind Ram to hug him, chin over Ram’s shoulder, anywhere, at any time, in front of anyone. But Ram feels the burn of need in his veins, and if King would kiss the back of his neck at the same time, slip his hands over Ram’s hips and grind into his ass - 

“Ning,” King says, and Ram blinks out of his reverie. King looks half amused, half concerned, pencil in his hand and papers spread over the entire table on which they’re working. 

“Sorry,” Ram mumbles. “Was just thinking.”

King runs his hand through his hair. “I know I’m hot, but you need to focus on calculus,” he pulls an exaggerated model pose, hand behind his tilted head and blinking up through his eyelashes. Ram knows he’s teasing but he is hot, and Ram flashes back to what he was just thinking about. Before he can stop himself, he’s already half-hard in his jeans. 

“I gotta go,” he says, and hastily shoves his papers back into his bag. King stares at him, confused. 

“Okay?” King says. “Are you alright? You look a little...flushed.” King lifts a hand as if he were about to touch Ram’s shoulder, but pulls back at the last second as Ram stands up. “I was only joking,” King mumbles. “Sorry.” 

_“It’s not you, it’s me,”_ Ram thinks wildly. He’s really got to get himself under control before King thinks he’s nothing but a horny freshman, only wanting King for his body. Well, he does want King’s body, but he respects King too much and wants him too fully to be careless with this part of their relationship. And if King wants to take it slow, then that's what they'll do. 

King clenches his fist on his thigh. “Um. Are you going to be back at the condo tonight? Do you want dinner?” 

Ram turns slightly away so King doesn’t see that he’s basically got a full-on boner at this point. Thank God he wears his shirts out most of the time. “Yes, I will be there. Late, like seven. Environmental remediation tonight, remember.” Ram may be trying to make a hasty exit to avoid embarrassing himself by throwing himself into King’s lap, but King still is his boyfriend and Ram isn’t going to be _that_ rude. He kisses the top of King’s head. “Love you,” he says quietly, and relishes the way King’s eyes flutter closed. 

………………………………………………………………………

Ram needs to get over himself, he knows this. King has never been anything but sweet and enthusiastic about what they’ve done so far, Ram’s tentative hands exploring his back, their sweaty grinding on the couch with King on his lap and panting into Ram’s mouth until they make a mess of themselves and each other. But that's all. 

They’ve not even talked about going further, about what happens after the clothes come off and...well. King hasn’t even tried to take Ram’s shirt off yet.

Ram stalks across the campus, bag over his shoulder, and tries to face it logically. 

Does King want him? Yes, Ram thinks so. But is it the all-consuming fire that is burning in Ram’s heart, all the time, every day? Every moment Ram sees King smile? 

He’s not sure. 

But what could happen if he just told King how he feels? Ridiculous. Impossible. He struggles finding words with King on the best of days, he’s sure as hell never going to be able to find the language to express the kind of want that simmers under his skin. Would King take him up on what he’s offering? Would he understand Ram’s need to be possessed, to be owned and marked and desired by someone he can’t ever stop thinking about? 

Ram doesn’t think it's inexperience that makes King so hesitant. He caught a few references earlier in the semester to an ex - he’s pretty sure King isn’t a virgin, at the very least. 

“Your face is going to freeze like that,” Boss tells him as he sits down in class. Their shared elective is the only class Ram has with one of King’s friends, and despite Boss’s tendency to constantly lose his notes and borrow Ram’s, it has been sort of helpful to have someone he knows there. Ram pulls out his notebook and pencil, and tries to unknot his brows. Boss glances at him every once in a while during the lecture, and Ram figures that means he’s failed. 

“I know that look, and that look means that you’ve got some kind of boyfriend trouble,” Boss tells him, as they start to pack up afterward. “Mek makes it whenever he’s trying to tell me something but hasn’t yet. So what’s the story? King finally try to make you solve differential equations in bed?” Boss laughs at his own joke and claps Ram on the shoulder. 

Ram doesn’t say anything, just picks up his bag and begins to walk out. He’s not going to confirm anything for King’s most gossipy, talkative friend, especially not when he’s likely to spill it to King before Ram himself can figure it all out. But before he can leave the classroom, Boss stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Look, it’s really not my business. But just talk to him. I think...I think you’ll find he’s struggling to talk to you, too.” Boss gives Ram a tight smile, and Ram realizes that Boss might know just a bit more about Ram’s problems than he thought.

………………………………………………………………………………………...

Dinner that night is an unmitigated disaster. 

Ram gets back to the condo a little past 7, as he said he would, to find a plate on the table and King in the shower. He’s torn between food and a possible glimpse of a wet, naked King, but when he carefully tries the door to say that he's home, it's locked. Ram shrugs and pops the plate in the microwave for a minute before settling on the sofa to eat and watch tv. 

It’s barely five minutes before the door opens, a wash of warm, damp air flowing into the living room with a hint of King’s body wash. Ram looks up and King is there, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes are intent for a brief moment before he smiles and comes to settle on the sofa, close enough to Ram that their thighs are touching. 

“Welcome home, dear,” he teases. “Do I get a welcome home kiss for having dinner waiting for you?” 

Ram quirks a half smile but leans over to dutifully peck King’s cheek. “Thank you.” King’s skin is still warm and damp, and Ram can feel the heat all the way along the side of his body. King shaved, too, his skin powdery soft under Ram’s lips. Ram’s heartbeat picks up a little as he puts his plate on the coffee table and turns to slide a palm along King’s jaw before he pulls him in to kiss him more fully. 

King’s sudden intake of breath is a good sign, as is the hand that reaches out to skate up Ram’s thigh and squeeze. Ram scoots a touch closer so he can put one hand on King’s waist, one of Ram’s hands almost able to cover King’s entire hip. He’s slender but he’s strong, and taller than Ram, and Ram would love nothing more than to have those hipbones digging into the back of his thighs. He opens his mouth more fully into the kiss and is rewarded with King’s tongue licking into his mouth, his damp hair falling against Ram’s cheeks. 

Ram is elated. This is what he’s been waiting for, King letting himself go enough that the hand that was on his thigh is now making its way under the hem of Ram’s shirt. His whimper when King’s fingers find their way to the hollow of his spine and tuck under the wasitband of his jeans is almost involuntary, as is the way he can feel himself arch into King’s body, desperately seeking more contact. 

The sofa creaks when King shifts his weight so he can lean in to get his other hand on Ram’s buttons and tries to fiddle them open one-handed. Ram pulls back a little to give him room, their shared breath humid between them.

“Fuck, I hate these shirts,” King hisses under his breath. Ram finally bats his hands away, unbuttons the top two buttons, pulls the shirt off over his head and tosses it on the floor. He then catches King behind the neck to drag him into another bruising kiss as King’s hands roam freely over Ram’s back, fingertips tracing around and over the diamond tattooed between his shoulderblades. 

Ram can feel his skin heating, a flush that’s burning in his cheeks and sliding down his neck; a tingling in his fingers that’s urging him on to tug King’s tee shirt up and over his head. King’s hair spills in a feathery shadow across his eyes, soft and inviting, so Ram pushes his fingers through it, marveling at how silky it feels against his fingers despite being damp. King tilts his head into the caress with a sigh, then turns his head to kiss Ram’s palm. 

Ram blinks, heart full at the intimacy of King’s touch. He wants to reciprocate, show King how very much he means to Ram’s life, to his _soul_ , but as soon as King’s knuckles touch his lips and King turns his palm to Ram’s cheek with a tight smile, Ram knows. 

“No,” Rams blurts, before he can think. This can’t be happening again. He tightens his hold on King’s hand. Adds his other hand for good measure. 

King looks like a startled deer, ready to bolt. “What do you mean, no?”

Ram clenches his teeth. Words, again. Ones he has to find, to use. King very, very clearly cannot read his mind this time. “Why are you stopping?” _Why do you always?_

King looks down, brow furrowed. “I...I don’t want to push, you know? You’re a first year, and…” he looks up, helpless, his panic clear in his eyes as he stares at Ram.

“I’m not a virgin,” Ram says, annoyed. “What’s your problem?” 

As soon as he says it, Ram wants to kick himself. That’s not what he meant, not at all, and now King has narrowed his eyes and is trying to stand up and probably stomp off in a huff. Why does this have to be so difficult? “Fuck. No, not that. I’m sorry, baby, please don’t. I’m sorry.” Ram tugs on King’s wrist until he flops back down on the sofa, but now he’s pissed, face stormy and brows drawn. 

Ram leans over, elbows on his knees. He scrubs his hands through his hair, and finally makes up his mind. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he says into the silence of the room. 

He risks a glance at King. King is sitting with his back to the arm of the sofa, knees drawn up, eyes wide. Ram tries again.

“I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable,” he says, and each word seems to catch behind his teeth, push its way out of his mouth through sheer force of will. “I just see you, and you’re so beautiful, and I -- I want you so much. All the time. I hoped…” Ram finally runs out of momentum, and King still isn’t saying anything. He can feel his throat tightening up, tears threatening in the corners of his eyes. God, this is so fucked up. Ram really fucked this up. Boss told him to talk to King, and here he is, trying to talk, and - 

In a heartbeat, King is on his knees on the sofa, his warm arms around Ram’s shoulders, cheek against the crown of Ram’s head. “We,” he declares, “are idiots.” 

Ram stills. King’s skin is so soft, his chest pressed right against Ram’s back. “How?”

“Because I want you, too,” King murmurs into his hair. “But I thought I was being a creep about it.” 

“No you weren’t.”

“Well, _I_ thought I was. You’d blush every time I made even a remotely dirty joke! Then you’d run away!” 

Ram pulls away to look at King’s face. “That’s because I was so turned on I was worried you’d think I was some kind of horny...I don’t even know. That I was just trying to get off with you.”

“But I _want_ you to get off with me!” King says, eyes flashing. 

“I want to get off with you too!” Ram snaps back, then tilts backward, his head landing on the back of the sofa. Before he can stop it, a laugh bubbles up. “This has to be the stupidest argument I’ve ever had,” he says. 

King snickers, obviously trying to hold it in. “Stop that. This is serious.” 

“Seriously stupid.”

“Ram!” King tries to shove him, but Ram grabs his arm and pulls him down until he’s lying with his head in Ram’s lap. His eyes are lit with mirth, his smile beautiful and infectious. Ram carefully brushes his hair out of his face, then leans down to press a gentle, sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“So now what?” King asks. He interlaces their fingers and rests them on his chest. Ram can feel the rapid beat of his heart and it makes him giddy, makes his heart soar. “You just...you want me to…”

Ram swallows, and meets King’s eyes. “Yes,” Ram whispers. “I think about it all the time. Just taking me. Wanting me that much.” He wraps a strand of King’s hair around his finger. “Making me yours.” 

King bites his lips, then nods, slowly. He looks up at Ram and the hunger in his eyes can’t be denied. He turns his head to press an open-mouthed kiss just above Ram’s belly button. “If you want that, I can give it to you,” he says, voice low. 

Ram shivers. “Yes, _please_.” He hates how his voice sounds, high and needy. 

“Now?” King’s fingers have found their way up Ram’s ribs, and are tracing out the pattern on his left pec. 

Ram takes King’s hand, kisses his fingertips. “No, maybe not right now. I’m a bit...this was a lot of conversation,” he says. “But soon. Any time after now. I’ll be ready.” 

King’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “So will I.” 

“Good,” Ram says, and kisses him quiet. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ram stares in flat disbelief when, of all the things he could be doing on a Friday night, he’s at the bar watching TingTing and Boss match shot for shot of top-shelf sangsong. The pile of cash on each side as to who will pass out first is getting bigger as more and more bar patrons show up to their table - mostly to egg them on, Ram assumes. 

“I’ve only got about 500 Baht left, so Ting better drink him under the table,” King murmurs, eyes wide as Ting sinks her eighth drink to cheers from the surrounding crowd. “And the bottle is low.” 

Ram sighs. “You know Bohn will get another.” 

“Maybe get her some food? I’m really kind of freaked out. She’s tiny. How is she doing this.”

“Practice. I’ve never been able to out drink her. Never. And I’ve known her for two years.” 

King turns amused eyes to Ram. He looks particularly beautiful in the multicolored lights of the bar. “Yeah? Never seen you drunk before.” He leans close, so close Ram has to tilt his head to catch the words whispered in his ear. “I think I’d like to.”

Ram shivers. “Maybe. If you’re nice.” 

“Me? When am I not?” King places an exaggerated hand over his heart.

“Hey, stop flirting, you two, we’ve got an important competition going on here,” Bohn calls from across the table. “Ram, here, you’re sober, can you get another bottle?” Bohn waves his credit card at Ram. Ram looks at King, the question clear on his face, and King just nods slowly, smirking. That’s as good as tacit approval from King. 

Ram takes the card. He fully intends to get the bottle and a few snacks for the table, to boot. This is all Bohn’s idea, he can pay for it. 

He threads his way through the tables until he reaches the bar. The bartender listens to his order for another bottle and food with disbelief. “If she pukes, you’re all cleaning it up,” he warns. Ram just nods and knows he’ll leave it for Bohn and Duen to deal with - Duen is used to cleaning up after Ting anyway. 

He leans on the bar and watches as Boss clinks glasses with Ting and drops one more shot, then throws his head back and laughs. Mek has his arms crossed and shakes his head fondly - he never has tried to rein Boss in all that much, and now that they’re a couple, it’s only gotten worse. 

“You with them?” A voice says next to his ear. Ram turns to see a tall, very handsome man smiling at him. He doesn’t look familiar, so Ram nods and keeps watching. “Thought so. I saw you earlier. I didn’t see you had a drink of your own - can I buy you something?” 

Ram turns back to the stranger and raises an eyebrow, before he shakes his head. The guy is incredibly good looking, maybe in his late twenties, if Ram were guessing, and hanging out in a college bar trying to pick up freshmen. Gross. 

“You’re incredibly hot,” he continues. “I’m Jom. You’re a student?” He leans a bit closer, until his fingertips just barely brush against Ram’s elbow, where it’s resting on the bar. 

“I’m leaving,” Ram says. “My boyfriend is waiting for me.” He turns, picks up the bottle the barkeeper has just set behind him, and tries not to cringe. He strides back to their table, deposits the bottle with a thump in front of Bohn, and turns toward the restroom. King watches him with narrowed eyes but doesn’t say anything. He’s always been able to read Ram fairly well, their current miscommunication notwithstanding, and Ram knows King will give him the space he needs without question. 

Ram bangs through the door and leans on the sink for a moment, before he splashes some cool water on his face and dries it. He’s gotten better at controlling his temper as he’s gotten older, but the price is a twisting in his gut that takes a minute to unwind. He breathes - measured, slow breaths - for thirty seconds, and when he feels himself again, he turns toward the door.

When he opens it, King is on the other side, leaning against the wall, whiskey in hand. He takes a careless sip before he looks up and catches Ram’s eyes. He looks … oh god. He looks _hungry_ , and Ram’s pulse picks up.

“Come here,” King says, and turns to put his drink on the windowsill. 

Ram swallows. He steps toward King until their toes almost touch, and King lifts a hand to slowly, carefully, skim his fingertips down Ram’s arm, bare under the cut off sleeves of his shirt. “You know I love it when you wear your shirts like this,” he says, voice husky. “You told that guy you’re not interested.”

Ram has to remember to breathe. “Yeah.” 

“And you told him you were coming back to me, didn’t you.” King’s fingers have found their way to Ram’s belt loops and he tugs Ram closer, then tilts his head to drag his nose up Ram’s neck. “Fuck, you smell good.”

Ram tries not to whimper, and puts his hands on King’s shoulders. Is this it? He kept his word and is ready, whenever King is. He can smell the whiskey on King’s breath as he teases the corner of Ram’s mouth with tiny, featherlight kisses, never fully committing and never letting Ram catch his mouth. It’s maddening, and exciting, and Ram feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin. 

“P’King,” Ram groans. “You’re gonna kill me.” He cups King’s jaw with both hands and smooths his thumbs over King’s cheeks. King pulls back and smirks, and Ram barely has time to prepare before King’s hands are on his ass, squeezing. 

“Only as much as you want me to,” King whispers into his ear. “Let’s go home so I can show you.”

Ram glances down the hall and back into the bar. Duen is still well sober, as are Mek and Tang. Ting will be fine. So he catches King’s hand and pulls him along behind him, ignoring the shouts and cat calls from their table as he passes them by to pull King out into the night to catch a cab.

………………………………………………………………………………………..

The ride home is torturous, King’s hand on his on the back seat, King’s thumb stroking his little finger as they stare at each other in complete silence. The traffic lights highlight King’s gorgeous cheekbones in scarlet and shadow, and Ram has to force himself to breathe properly. Time crawls as they make the 10 minute drive back, every single stop and start ratcheting up the tension until Ram wants to scream with it. But finally they arrive back at the condo, King’s hand burning into the small of Ram’s back as they ride the elevator and unlock the door.

The soft click of the closing door is like a dam breaking.

They don’t even have the lights on yet and King is on him, one hand cradling Ram’s neck and the other caging him in, forearm on the wall. “What’s mine is mine,” he says, eyes intent on Ram’s mouth as he smears a thumb across Ram’s lips.

Ram’s heart picks up speed. “Then come take it.” 

King sucks in an audible breath when Ram opens his mouth and draws King’s thumb inside, tasting King’s skin with a deliberate swirl of his tongue around the tip before slowly pulling off. His skin tastes salty sweet, and Ram revels in the way King’s eyes droop for a moment before he tilts forward to capture Ram’s mouth with his own in a bruising kiss that buckles Ram’s knees, leaves him weak and buzzing with want. King is kissing him like he talks, like he _thinks_ ; his lips are never still - they caress, they slide, they taste Ram’s mouth with intent, as if King were cataloging every single sigh or moan Ram makes and plans on using it later in a final exam. 

That’s fine, because Ram is learning, too - that King shivers at fingers on the side of his neck, that he obviously wants to kiss Ram’s dreamcatcher tattoo but hasn’t yet let himself, and the hitching of his hips to grind against Ram’s body is a promise of wonderful things to come. The spanish moss hanging from the ceiling is tickling Ram’s ears, and he wonders if King is going to go for it right here in the hall when King breaks away, panting.

“We need to move to the bedroom,” he says, and his voice is breathless with the kind of want Ram has been hoping to hear for weeks, for months now. So he pulls King in for another kiss and slow walks him backward, down the hall and through the bedroom door before he pushes him onto the bed. King’s eyes are dark and alluring as they stare up at Ram, and Ram can’t help but climb on and straddle him, hissing at the contact between them as he settles with King hot and hard beneath him. 

“That’s a view,” King says, his hands firmly kneading Ram’s thighs. “So sexy. You'd look good riding me."

"Yeah?" Ram’s chest goes tight at the words but he's ready to give as good as he gets, so he tilts his hips in a long, slow grind on King's lap. He wants King to know he meant every word he said, and if King wants Ram to ride him, then he's going to fuck King’s brains out and bring him back for more. 

Ram pulls his shirt off over his head, tosses it on the floor, and goes for his belt. 

“Look at you,” King whispers. “You're so fucking hot. I never thought you’d do this for me.” King sits up, one hand splayed behind Ram’s back to help him stay balanced. Ram sighs as King presses kisses to his chest, teeth grazing over the skin in a way that makes Ram think King would sink his teeth in if he could, devour him whole.

Ram wants that. Wants King to consume him, carry Ram with him always. A surge of desire, of love, swells his heart and he bends to kiss King until they’re gasping, mouths raw and sore and Ram’s cock almost painful where it’s trapped in his jeans. He delights in the way King is moving under him, hips working Ram up to the point he really wants to strip them down, get them hot and naked and slick on the sheets. He’s about ready to kneel up to shuck his jeans when King breaks away and blinks up at him. 

“I really had something else in mind,” King says, voice low. 

“What is it?”

In answer, King shifts his weight until Ram tips over sideways onto the bed. King is over him in a heartbeat, slotted between his thighs. There’s a pause as they breathe at each other, King’s eyes huge in the half-shadow of the room, and Ram carefully hooks one ankle over the back of King’s knee in open invitation. He tilts his head until King finally, finally lowers his lips to the ink behind Ram’s ear, a featherlight touch that sends sparks flying behind Ram’s closed eyelids.

“More,” he begs, hands clutched in King’s shirt. “I want to _feel_ it.”

King groans at that, lips working down Ram’s neck until he can feel the pressure of King’s teeth as he sucks a bruise into the skin there. King’s own mark, a talisman of his love overlaid on the tattoo that was supposed to protect Ram from fear of his own making and now carries the addition of King’s strength. Ram urges him to turn so Ram can kiss him, imagining he can taste the tang of copper and the charcoal ink on King’s lips. 

“Want you so much,” King says between kisses. “Want to make you scream, fuck you ‘till you can't walk, keep going until I have to feed you breakfast in bed.” King leans up on one elbow and reaches down to undo Rams belt and the button of his jeans. “Let me. Please.”

Ram nods, trying to help King get his pants off, until King stops him with a hand on his chin.

“Hey,” he says, and his eyes are suddenly serious. “Look at me. Tell me yes.”

Ram looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow. “I expect eggs and toast in the morning. And I want you, P’King. I don’t know how else to tell you yes but … yes.”

The smile that blooms on King’s face is a marvel, and then he’s a whirlwind. He strips Ram’s jeans and boxers off as he climbs off the bed, slips his shirt off and drops his own jeans in less than thirty seconds. He’s gorgeous, stark naked and golden, a sweet little trail of hair down his belly to a nicely curved cock that’s going to leave Ram aching tomorrow. King pushes his hair out of his eyes, a slightly self-conscious gesture that Ram finds so endearing but he doesn’t want King to feel that here.

“So beautiful,” Ram says, then opens his arms. King slides back onto the bed and into Ram’s embrace, then props his chin on Ram’s chest.

“Yeah? Keep talking, Ning, you might get somewhere with it.” King circles Ram’s nipple with a finger, before leaning down to kiss it. Their bodies are touching from their chests to their feet, and the scorching heat of their cocks trapped between them has Ram starting to sweat. 

Ram rolls his hips and King closes his eyes on a gasp. “I thought I was promised certain things,” Ram says, and then does it again.

“Fuck, you’re dangerous,” King says. “Drop that bomb on me the other day now this.” He then pulls himself back onto his knees and hauls one of Ram’s legs over his shoulder. “Hope you’re flexible,” he says, and leans over to pull lube and a condom clumsily from a bedside drawer. “Because I fully intend to find out.” 

Ram can feel goosebumps break out at King’s words, at the hot drag of his skin across Ram’s own. He watches avidly as King flips the bottle open and pours some out on his fingers, then looks down at Ram with a smirk. 

“Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not taking my time,” he says.

Ram nods. “I’ve...I told you I’d be ready for you. I’ve been … practicing.” Ram can feel his entire face flame - not that he had been fingering himself but that he finally admitted it to King. 

“That so?” King rubs his middle finger around Ram’s hole in small circles and Ram gasps. “I’d like to see that. Watch you make yourself feel good. You can watch me too, if you want.” King’s finger slips inside, just a little, and Ram breathes and tries to relax. He’s done this only a handful of times with others, so the feeling is still startling, having someone else’s hands on him, King’s hands on him, warm body against Ram’s as King works him open with nimble fingers. He grazes Ram’s prostate every so often as he does, and Ram chases the feeling, smacking his hand on the bed in frustration as King pulls back and chuckles at him. 

“And I thought I was impatient,” he says, and slips the condom on. Ram raises up on his elbows and glares. “Oho, there’s my Ning. I knew he’d still be around if I pushed hard enough. I saw him at the bar, too, crushing that guy’s hopes without even a little guilt. God, you were so hot.” King pulls Ram’s leg back over his arm and lines up, the pressure against Ram’s ass maddening, the anticipation building until King pushes forward and just inside. 

Ram bites his lip. He’s prepped but it’s still a lot, all at once, and King isn’t pulling back. “You’re mine, Ram Vera,” King growls and shoves forward again. Ram has to take a breath this time, King relentless, bearing down with steady pressure until Ram finally relaxes enough to take more. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wanted you from that first moment. God, I wanted you. Fuck. Ram.” King finally bottoms out but otherwise doesn’t move, his teeth clenched. Ram grabs his hand and interlaces their fingers.

“P’King,” he says, the only word he can find in the haze of his arousal, King inside him, the pleasure-pain right at the edge of unbearable. “Please.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you, baby. Can I move? I need to move.” King falls forward on one arm, the muscles in stark relief in the lamplight, his hair a silky curtain over his eyes. He’s gorgeous, ethereal, and Ram needs him closer. He untangles his leg from King’s other arm, then draws him down until Ram can wrap his calves around King’s thighs, and can reach King’s face to kiss him. King settles onto his elbows gratefully, opening his mouth to Ram’s kiss as he slowly rocks into Ram’s body. 

“You’re so good,” he whispers. “Feel so good. Do I have the right spot, baby? What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” Ram whines, then tilts his hips up into King’s thrusts. “Just keep doing that.” He reaches between them and gets a hand on his cock, trying to jerk himself in time with King’s movements, speeding up as Ram is more comfortable and urges him on. “Fuck, King. I’m going to come already. Don’t stop, don’t -” Ram can feel his orgasm creeping up on him, a tension that starts in his groin, travels up his spine and curls over his shoulders as King breathes heavily into his ear, fucking him hard enough the bed is starting to creak. Ram tries to open his legs more fully, looking to give King more space, and inadvertently lets King get deeper. They both gasp and Ram wonders if he’s going to pass out before he comes, given how tense his body is right now, right on the sharpest precipice of the longest, most beautiful fall.

“My beautiful Ram, I can’t believe how much I love you,” King whispers in his ear. “Watching you like this, getting to have you. I’ve wanted you so, so much.”

Ram chokes as he grips himself more firmly, unable to breathe enough past his own impending orgasm to answer. King’s words are everything, everything Ram had wanted these past weeks and months, the knowledge that King wants him, body and soul; that King loves him and needs him as much as Ram loves and needs King. The realization of that connection rattles him from the inside out, and as he finally hits the peak it makes him shiver as his cock pulses between them, his orgasm taking him so strongly he can’t stop the cry that falls from his lips.

“That’s it, my love, let it go for me,” King says. “I’m with you. How fucking gorgeous you are when you come. Fuck - “ King pauses, then his own orgasm shivers over him, Ram feeling it in the jerking of King’s hips. Ram smooths a hand down King’s back as he shakes, and he feels a fierce satisfaction in the knowledge that King has lost himself in Ram’s body, in the two of them together. He kisses King’s temple.

King drops his forehead to Ram’s chest, breath gusting across Ram’s skin. “That was amazing,” he pants. 

“Mmmm,” is all Ram can answer, and passes a gentle hand over King’s hair. When King shifts and pulls out, Ram winces. That’s the kind of ache that’s going to linger for a while, his body feeling empty, hollowed out and bereft. King ties off the condom and tosses it in the trash, then snuggles back down next to Ram, his head on Ram’s chest again. 

“You’re so, so good,” King says. His eyes look sleepy and satisfied, and Ram tries to tamp down the smug smile he’s sure is on his face. “We are definitely doing that again,” he adds, and kisses Ram’s chest again. 

“Or other things,” Ram says, thinking about the taste of King’s thumb in his mouth, his imagination serving him up some very tasty images of King kneeling over his chest and feeding him his cock.

“Or other things,” King agrees. “Give me a few minutes, baby, and I’ll be ready.” King reaches down and teases his fingers over Ram’s now-soft cock. “Now that you’ve told me, I’m never gonna get enough. I hope you’re ready.” 

Ram can feel himself almost preening. He’s never going to get enough either, and he doesn’t care that King knows it. The heady feeling of watching desire fill King’s eyes as he looks at Ram will never fade, nor will the fire that ignites at his touch. But there’s nothing wrong with a little healthy encouragement for King to keep trying to win him over. “Yeah. You promised I’d need breakfast in bed, so let’s see if you can back it up.” 

King immediately perks up, eyebrow raised and smirking. He dives down under the sheet and squirms his way between Ram’s legs until Ram finally gives in and spreads them, laughing when he lifts the sheet up to see King peeking up at him.

“One thing,” he says, as he leans forward and licks up Ram’s slowly filling cock.

“What?” Ram twitches as arousal sparks across his nerves. God, yes. He’s already ready to go again. He lies back against the pillows and sighs. 

“We’re out of eggs,” King says, and winks before he ducks under the sheet again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Our summary of Space, Chapter 30.](https://mazarin221b.tumblr.com/post/633992930698395648/okay-here-goes-be-warned-whatever-you-think) Read the warnings, kids.
> 
> Title from [River by Bishop Briggs](https://youtu.be/h5jz8xdpR0M). Give it a listen while you're reading - it's the mood I wrote it in.


End file.
